The House on Ambrose Street

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Chapter 10- On the Edge of Darkness

I scrambled against the ledge, my fingers grasping at nothing but dirt.

“Shit!” I was sliding.

My legs kicked and bashed feebly against the rock, forcing a grunt of pain out of my clenched teeth each time they connected.

“Ow! Crap!”

There was only air underneath me. I was digging my elbows into the rock, hoping those pushups had been enough to make my arms strong.

“Son of a bitch!” I croaked. My face was puckered against the strain. And I was still sliding.

I let out an incoherent yell when I slipped over the edge and had only my fingertips clutching the rock. I was hanging, dangling.

But I screamed like I’d been zapped when I felt something soft wrap itself underneath my stomach. The dusty, gritty thing lifted me up and over the ledge. It placed me a few feet from the edge, on my feet. I staggered back.

The carpet on the stairs did this sort of bow, and then folded itself back over the stairs.

Without having more than a few heartbeats in between, footsteps sounded above me. I looked up. It was a muted clump clump of shoes on carpet. Was I still being followed? Why would anyone go into this house?

I glanced back at the carpeted stairs uneasily. The fabric wasn’t moving anymore, but still, I hadn’t known it was going to in the first place, so maybe it was going to pull the same stunt on me again.

I spun on my heels, my back to the wall. Oh. Because I was one of those people. I was one of those people who didn’t know when enough was enough.

I began to back towards the wall, my hands held out loosely in front of me, just in case I had to warn off another molestation by the carpet. But where I had expected to hit the wall, I fell through air, and flopped hard onto my back. When I sat up, the wall in front of me closed like elevator doors. Like a rocket, I was rising.

I crawled to my knees. It wasn’t the small, square room that was rising; the walls were rushing past me in a gray blur. The platform underneath me was rising. I tried to grab hold of something, but there was nothing to anchor myself other than the smooth floor. It was a polished stone, glittering without any light. I slipped and slid, inching closer and closer to the walls rushing past me.

When it jerked to a stop, I was flung up and smashed back down onto it like I’d hit a huge wave of turbulence.

The wall opened up in front of me.

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